


Two Cherries on Top

by dustandroses



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Basement of Doom, Community: tamingthemuse, Fluffy, Humor, M/M, POV: Xander, PWP, messy sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2015-05-31
Packaged: 2018-04-02 03:50:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4044793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dustandroses/pseuds/dustandroses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Xander creates a work of art, but refuses to share.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Cherries on Top

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt Notes:** Inspiration for this fic taken from the Live Journal community Tamingthemuse prompt: #462: Magnum Opus  
>  **Notes:** Just a little bit of fluff from Xander's new favorite job of the week.

With a broad smile, Xander examined his masterpiece. It had taken him fifteen minutes to construct, but the disaster he left behind in the kitchen would have to wait for another time. Now was the time to appreciate – the time to _devour_ his work of art. His new job at the ice cream shop had been a major trial today. With summer beating down on them, the shop had been swamped from morning to night, and with two scoopers MIA there had been no chance to take a break for a well deserved reward for all his hard work. 

And hard work it had been, even though it had been worth the effort. Finally, a job he could truly appreciate and a job that truly appreciated his skills. He’d been in demand all day, and the only time he’d had any negative feedback, was when the manager pointed out that unless they raised the prices on the cool, delicious treats, Xander was going to have to use slightly smaller scoops. 

Understood. Not that he’d been happy about it, but he’d understood. 

His only complaint was the giggle he got every time he answered the phone: “Cherry On Top Ice Cream Shoppe, how can I help you?” 

It was his dream job, and he’d been in heaven. Right up to the moment when a customer asked: “Oh, hey! Could you leave the cherry off?” 

As regular customers of the store, the Scoobies knew the scoop – the cherry on top was NOT optional. Wide-eyed, Buffy and Willow had grabbed their ice cream, and scuttled out of the shop, leaving Xander to handle the disaster. Spike had paled, and stepped back, out of the way, but it had been nice to have his reassuring presence nearby. 

The cheery, ice creamy Muzak that had been playing in the background all morning scratched to a halt with the words, and the red-faced manager, Mr. Pistachio, gasped loudly. “What. Did. You. Say?” 

Xander shook his head. The carnage had been too terrible to contemplate. Instead, he concentrated on his prize for a job well done. Since there’d been no time to indulge at the shop, Mr. Pistachio had wrapped up a special package for him when his shift ended – all the fixings he needed to make the ultimate work of art. 

Scoop upon scoop of perfectly round balls of chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry ice cream, surrounded by nummy bananas, and topped with hot fudge, caramel, and strawberry toppings that slid down the sides of the ice cream with soft, goopy perfection. On top, huge mounds of fluffy whipped cream sat, liberally strewn with multi-colored sprinkles, nuts, and garnishing the top – six glorious cherries. 

He called it the _Hot Fudge/Banana Split/Sundae Thingie_. 

“There could never be another like it,” he told Spike in a reverential voice.

“Your magnum opus,” Spike agreed, in a voice that almost sounded as awed as Xander felt, even if he didn’t get the reference.

“Magnum P.I.-us?” he said in confusion – a state in which Spike constantly seemed to leave Xander. He wasn’t sure what Tom Selleck had to do with his ice cream Thingie.

Spike rolled his eyes. “A magnum opus is an artistic masterpiece, the greatest single work of an artist, writer, or composer.” He paused, looking Xander up, and down again. “It usually comes at the peak of an artist’s career. How old are you, again?”

“Ninteen,” Xander told him with a frown. He had a feeling there was an insult in there somewhere.

“Well,” Spike said with a sneer, “some people peak too soon.” He wandered into the kitchen area long enough to rattle through the silverware drawer. 

“Hey! I resemble that remark!”

Spike slipped up next to him, and casually tried to swipe a large spoon through Xander’s masterpiece Thingie, and Xander stepped to the side to avoid him.

“Oh, no you don’t. This is _my_ magnanimous opium, and you’re not touching it!” He scuttled over to a corner, near the closet, where he could defend his ice cream, and eat it at the same time. Unfortunately, he hadn’t taken into account the washing machine, which, when climbed upon, made the perfect ledge for an attack from above. Xander squealed, and took his ice cream off to another corner.

Spike stalked him around the basement, but Xander was firm. This was _his_ masterpiece, and he was eating all of it. Alone. Finally, Spike stomped off to the kitchen. “I’ll make my own, then.”

Xander froze. This was not going to be pretty.

A low growl emerged from the kitchen area, and Xander’s hair stood on end at the violence in that sound. Obviously, Spike had discovered the empty ice cream containers. He scrunched as far down into the couch as he could get, and started eating _fast_.

“You. Bloody. Bastard!” 

Damn. He was in trouble now. A wave of _hurt_ pulsed through his forehead. Owww! He slapped one palm to his forehead, and kept shoveling the ice cream in. He couldn’t eat any faster – he was getting brain freeze already! 

“How was I supposed to know that vampires liked ice cream?” he asked as he jerked the bowl away from Spike, yet again, using his spoon to smack the vampire’s knuckles.

Spike jerked his hand away, shaking the fingers out. “That hurt, you bleedin’ wanker!” 

His eyes turned yellow as he transformed into gameface, attacking with his own spoon. They dueled across the basement, spoon against spoon, Xander’s large bowl clutched firmly to his ice cream-covered chest. Finally, Spike tackled him onto the couch, and the now-goopy ice cream slopped onto Xander’s cheek, and ran down his chin onto his neck, a stream of strawberry topping beckoning the vampire to a more carnal appetite. 

Spike had often stated that he could never resist a sweaty, disheveled Xander, and obviously this was no exception. Switching back to his human face, he straddled Xander and leaned down, his tongue lapping up the strawberry and chocolate sauce that covered his Adam’s apple. By the time Spike’s tongue met Xander’s, the mood of their game had definitely changed. 

Pulling the bowl out of Xander’s unresisting hands, Spike set it on the coffee table. “Strip!” he ordered, as he grabbed the waistband of his own jeans. 

Xander caught on quickly, and his ice cream-spattered shirt was across the room in seconds, followed quickly by his jeans and underwear. Spike held the bowl above Xander’s chest, and spooned a healthy dollop of ice cream and whipped cream onto each nipple, plopping a cherry on top for good measure. Then he went to work. Xander often claimed that Spike had the most talented tongue in existence, and Spike definitely lived up to his claim.

He licked butterscotch out of Xander’s belly button, and nibbled hot fudge off his treasure trail. Then he slid a slippery banana where no banana had ever been before. When he sucked down Xander’s vanilla and strawberry flavored cock, Xander screamed as he came, adding a new topping to Spike’s magnum opus – The Xander Sundae, which, by the way, comes with two cherries on top. 

Spike was completely satisfied. So was Xander. His only concern was how he was going to make it through work the next day without spontaneously sprouting a hard-on every time a customer asked for a banana split.


End file.
